


Mating Season

by popkin16



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Comment Fic, First Time, M/M, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/pseuds/popkin16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's mating season. Rodney is not enthused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mating Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).



> The idea of mating season being a big deal is inspired by [Divided We Stand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/877251). This was originally written as an unbeta'd comment fic for Tarlan on the Fandom Stocking dreamwidth community. I had plans to expand on this 'verse and would still like to, but I have a couple other werewolf ideas I'd like to do and I'm having a problem deciding which to settle on.
> 
> The Derek/Stiles is really just a passing mention.

When mating season begins, the city of Beacon Hills prepares itself. The inns air out all their rooms, the grocery stores stock up on meat, the eligible pack what belongings can be easily carried. It is a high honor to be chosen, and mating season is greeted with primping and careful selection of outfits. Once the gathering of wolves is complete, the selection begins.  
  
In days past, there may have been some formal event to introduce wolves to eligible townsfolk. Nowadays, most wolves find their mates while dining out, catching a movie, or getting a coffee at the local coffee shop. Wolves make no secret of finding their mate, and humans have learned to let them be and get out of the way.  
  
Rodney hates mating season. He hates the way people dress up, the way the girls giggle and the boys show off even more than usual. He hates that he can't walk anywhere without choking on perfume or cologne, that his favorite restaurant is booked up for the next month, that even shopping for groceries becomes a hassle not worth the time and effort; especially not the time, as Rodney's is more valuable than most, and he cannot waste time standing in a long line waiting to pay for his food.  
  
"Don't be such a grump," admonishes Spalonski, rolling his eyes and running one hand over his short hair. Rodney scowls back at him; why did he hire this hyperactive, annoying brat who was immune to Rodney's rants and honest insights (frequently called 'insults' by others)? Because Elizabeth made him, Rodney remembered, and sighed. Spalonski was actually quite intelligent, even if he did have attention problems. At least he didn't overload on cologne.  
  
"Maybe we should stop for the night," Radek's assistant suggested. He, too, was immune to Rodney's managerial style, though Rodney suspected Radek's hand in that. He had traded in his trademark red 'You Are Here' shirt for a button up, stainless shirt. At least his other underlings still feared him, he thought morosely, as everyone in the room turned to stare pleadingly at him.  
  
"Leave now," Rodney demanded, and could almost see a trail of cartoon smoke as the room cleared out. Spalonski actually hesitated at the door, glancing back at him.  
  
"Don't stay too late," he cautioned, and then he was gone. Rodney wasn't surprised; the kid had his eye on one of the wolves in town. Rodney had seen him once, a glowering, brooding type in a leather jacket - the exact opposite of Spasinski's energetic cheerfulness. Rodney personally thought the kid could do better, but it wasn't his place to say anything. Rodney had seen the way the wolf's eyes had followed his assistant, and Rodney figured he'd be putting an ad out for a new assistant at the end of this mating cycle, though he couldn't imagine what was taking the guy so long to make a move.  
  
With the room cleared, Rodney was able to settle in and get some actual work done. He disappeared into his work as he always did, the minutes turning into hours, passing by unnoticed. When he finally blinked back into reality, his stomach was rumbling and his eyes had that weird stiffness that came with staring intently at something for too long. Yawning, Rodney stretched, moaning quietly at the relief in his muscles. He stood, absently rubbing his bottom, musing - once again - that he should try standing more often. He saved his work and created three copies - one to stay on his work computer, one for his tablet, and one for a flashdrive attached to his keys. Once done, he shut everything down and locked his lab. Ignoring the security guard behind the receptionists desk, he stepped out into the cool winter air and shivered. He had forgotten his coat again.  
  
Rodney stopped at the grocery store on the way home. It was blessedly quiet; not many people were shopping for food so late at night, and Rodney really didn't relish waiting in line for an hour for three basic items. Rodney hummed to himself as he turned into the bread isle. He was looking forward to falling asleep with his cat, Mr. Muggles (inappropriately named by his niece, and he will never forgive Jeannie for that fiasco. The stupid cat didn't even realize how ridiculous the name was and wouldn't respond to anything else. Rodney despaired, he really did).  
  
The sudden warm weight against his back startled him, and he dropped his armful of items. He caught himself against a nearby display case of pepsi, and turned with a rant already curling his lips.  
  
"Watch where you're going, you idiot!" Rodney snapped, pushing the man away from him. The guy barely moved and his gaze never wavered from Rodney's eyes. Rodney took a moment to take the guy in: tall, slender, and tan, with messy hair and full lips and eyes of an indeterminate color. He was _gorgeous_ and Rodney hated him immediately.  
  
"What is your problem?" He demanded, brushing non-existent dirt of his shirt and pants. "You can't just barrel into people, were you raised with no brain?"  
  
"Hey," the guy said vaguely. He was still staring. Rodney narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Are you on drugs? Are you going to rob me? I will brain you with my milk, guy." Rodney squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up, trying to look intimidating. Doing his best to project, 'I can kill you with my brain', he stooped to pick up his bread and milk, grateful that the plastic hadn't burst. The guy stooped down too, though he made no attempt to help Rodney pick his things up. Not that he needed help, but it was the principle of the thing.  
  
"Hey," the guy said again, this time with more intent, and grabbed Rodney's wrist. Rodney reeled back, flailing, and knocked into the pepsi case. Rodney winced as one of the cases fell.  
  
"Don't touch me!" Rodney exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to tug his wrist out of this man's grip. Rodney was startled into stillness when he met the man's hazel eyes. The thing about wolf-people was that they looked like ordinary people from a reasonable distance and it was only when you got close that you could sense that something was off. A bone deep instinct that said you were in the presence of a predator, that this was a being capable of violence, full of danger and power. It had always made Rodney feel uncomfortable, like the wolf was a moment away from snapping and attacking him.  
  
Rodney swallowed around the lump in his throat. He could feel himself trembling under the weight of that gaze. Rodney wanted to run, wanted to stay right where he was, wanted to be safe back in his lab and forever by this man's side. It was overwhelming and scary. Rodney looked away, hyper aware of the beat of his heart and the whoosh of the air in his lungs.  
  
"Uh," he said shakily. "Hi?"  
  
"Hello," the man said pleasantly. He smiled - it was a nice smile.  
  
"Are you going to let me go?" Rodney asked, licking his lips nervously. He tugged lightly, but the grip around his wrist tightened.  
  
"Nope," the man said easily, and his smile widened. He tilted his head, looking much like a curious dog. Or wolf, Rodney supposed. Did wolves tilt their head like that? He didn't know. "I'm John."  
  
"Rodney," Rodney mumbled, pointing vaguely at his own chest.  
  
"You smell nice."  
  
"Thank you?"  
  
John huffed a laugh and settled more comfortably on the ground. "You're welcome." They sat in silence for awhile, until Rodney's back started to protest and the cold of the floor and soaked through his jeans.  
  
"I have to go," Rodney commented finally, glancing toward the automatic doors. They were only twenty feet away, but it might as well have been miles.  
  
"You're coming with me," John said decisively.  
  
"Uh, no," Rodney said, glaring. "I have a job here, a life. I can't just go traipsing off into the forest. Also? I like comfort. Do you even have electricity? Internet? _Hot showers_ ? Oh god, do you live in caves? I refuse to live in a cave."  
  
"Trust me, Rodney," John said. "Where we live? You're going to love it."  
  
Rodney stared at John, considering. There was no reason to believe John, but part of Rodney desperately wanted to. It'd been so long since Rodney had had anybody to call his, and it was equally appealing to belong to someone. Werewolves mated for life, Rodney remembered, and he wanted that - a lifelong somebody. Rodney couldn't deny that a part of him seemed to be reaching out to John, as ridiculously romantic (and stupid) as that sounded.  
  
He bit his lip. It felt like the universe was holding its breath as it waited for his answer. John certainly was.  
  
"Okay."  
  
John's face lit up in a smile, and he pulled Rodney in to press a kiss against his mouth. It was warm and sweet and perfect, and Rodney felt something inside him finally unclench.  
  
"You won't regret it, I swear." John said, beaming at Rodney. Rodney took him in: the goofy smile, the pointy ears, the rakish hair and wiry strength of him. He liked the way John looked at him. What did it matter if he was basing his decision on instinct and some undefinable sense of rightness? Rodney was making the correct decision; he didn't need to see the equations to know it.  
  
"C'mon," John said, jumping to his feet. He helped Rodney up and set the milk and bread on the display case of pepsi. They left the fallen one behind on the floor.  
  
"There's some things we still need to talk about," Rodney babbled as he was pulled along. "I have a cat, for one, and you better not have lied when you said you lived somewhere nice."  
  
"Later," John replied, sending Rodney a wolfish grin. His eyes trailed up and down Rodney's body, and he would later swear they glowed. Were his teeth unusually pointy? "Don't you know, Rodney? It's mating season. Lets mate."


End file.
